


Warmth

by sleeperswake



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dimitri really needs to take a bath, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, PTSD RECOVERY, Post-Time Skip, Spoilers for blue lions, and get a bath bomb or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-10 22:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20143330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeperswake/pseuds/sleeperswake
Summary: After Dimitri vows to take back Fhirdiad, he starts to make some positive changes to his life. Step one, taking a bath and finally washing his cloak. Also known as: Dimitri makes time for self-care thanks to his classmates and professor. Dimitri/Byleth towards the end.





	Warmth

_ i. Smell _

The first thing he noticed when he got back to the monastery was that he smelled _ bad _\--like he took a roll in the sewer and made an effort to rub every piece of garbage on himself. Did he always smell like that? He supposed the effects of battle were not by any means glamorous; everyone was war-torn and bloodied, but he couldn’t figure out where his scent began and ended. Scanning his former classmates, he spotted Ingrid who he knew would give him an honest and straightforward answer.

“Ingrid!” He barked, startling her. She turned around and wait, did she just _ crinkle her nose? _

“Your highness,” She said, stepping towards him, but still at an arm's length away. Dimitri leaned forward so that he could whisper to her, and goddess help him, he noticed her flinch immediately. Was he really that boarish? 

“Be honest. Am I horrifyingly disgusting?” 

Ingrid rarely lost her composure, but the grimace that flew across her face already told him the answer he was looking for. “Dimitri, we know you’ve been through a lot, so no one is holding it against you…” She bit her lip, knowing that her next words were not kind. But from one childhood friend to another, she sighed, “But for the love of the goddess, please take a bath. Wash your hair. And burn that cloak or have the maids clean it. Our enemies could probably smell you miles away.” She cracked a smile at the last sentence, but it did little to quell the embarrassment that rose in Dimitri. 

“Thank you, Ingrid. I will do that,” he muttered, making haste towards his quarters. 

He didn’t remember the last time he took a bath, if he was honest. The hot water felt foreign to his body, almost as if he were being engulfed by the eternal flames, but it was a welcome feeling. He sent his armor to be cleaned, and to his chagrin, ordered that his cloak be cleaned and returned immediately. 

When he stepped in the dining hall later that night, Sylvain clapped him on the back and ruffled his hair.

“Looking good, your highness. Who knew those devilish locks of yours were so soft?” Dimitri’s one-eyed stare burned into Sylvain, but the knight just smiled cheekily and pointed at the table. “Gang’s all here, why don’t you join us for dinner tonight?”

_ ii. Taste _

Sitting at the monastery’s old dining hall took him back to their school days. The bench he sat at felt much smaller, with his knees nearly touching the top of the table. It was much quieter than it was back then, but the gentle hum of the kitchen and clatter of silverware sent a comforting shiver down his spine.

“Sorry for the wait everyone, but this was the best we could do! Hopefully we’ll get more supplies tomorrow.” Mercedes and Ashe lifted two pots of soup onto the table, and the aroma of savory vegetables filled the area. Everyone gave appreciate murmurs, and Dedue reached for his bowl. 

“Your highness, please let me get your portion.”

“Thank you, Dedue,” he said to his old friend, and Mercedes and Ashe smiled in delight as they spotted him. 

“Dimitri!” Ashe exclaimed, waving. “It’s so good to see you having dinner with us. It’s a light meal tonight, but Dedue has a recipe from Duscur that we’re hoping to try out once we get some more spices.”

“Thank you for cooking,” he said, nodding to him and Mercedes who smiled at him. He took his spoon and blew on the soup lightly, not expecting to taste anything other than texture and salt. As he swallowed, he felt an explosion of flavor light up his tongue and he immediately finished the rest, scooping as much into his mouth as possible. He knew he looked anything but dignified, but whatever Ashe and Mercedes put into this soup was simply amazing. 

“Mercedes, what is in this? It is simply wonderful!”

Mercedes’ eyebrows rose in surprise, and then she laughed. “I’m glad you like it, Dimitri. It’s only some vegetables and salt, we tried to make a stock from the little vegetables we had, but I’m afraid it didn’t have enough time to create the flavor we wanted. Maybe we’ll get some poultry soon so we can make some proper broth.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, I must know the recipe,” he said, taking a second helping. Confused, but happy for him, Mercedes just nodded as she wrote down the recipe on some parchment.

Dedue sat next to Dimitri after serving everyone else, and eyed him carefully. “Your highness, if I may be so bold, but can you taste what’s in the soup?” 

Dimitri paused before taking another bite, his mouth opening in surprise. “I suppose so…As a child, the kitchen staff said my favorite vegetable was carrots, and that I would grow up to be a fine fighter because of it. I never gave much thought to it.” Dimitri shrugged half-heartedly and took another sip of the soup, closing his eyes in contentment. 

Dedue didn’t press the subject further, but smiled quietly to himself, happy that his highness was finally eating a meal.

_ iii. Sleep _

He hated this time of night. It was the time when everyone would return to their quarters, and the monastery would start quieting down, waiting for dawn to break. Usually he would make his way to the desecrated cathedral and pray for revenge as the ghosts of his past would visit him. However tonight, he felt like he was carrying the weight of a thousand soldiers. Maybe it was the extra food he partook in, but he felt his mind and body growing weary for the first time in forever. 

He was no stranger to exhaustion. It was a reminder that he needed vengeance, and that his work was not yet done. He almost turned to his room, but found himself headed towards the training grounds. He couldn’t sleep. Not yet. 

The small amount of light that emitted from the torches illuminated a slim figure in the distance. Felix was hitting a practice dummy with a training sword, and didn’t paid no attention to Dimitri as he walked in. Dimitri grabbed a practice lance and motioned for Felix to join him. 

“Care to spar?” He asked Felix, noting the man’s apprehension towards him. 

“What, no haunting the cathedral tonight?” Felix probed, but getting into position. 

Dimitri didn’t respond and swung his lance at Felix. Felix dodged with ease and struck back, and their blades met. 

“You’re looking a little rough, your kingliness. You must be exhausted after today, just give in!”  


He was used to Felix’s taunts, as a child they frequently sparred and into adulthood they remained tacit rivals. He was not in a gaming mood, and swung his lance towards Felix’s legs, hoping to shut him up. 

Felix disarmed him with ease. “This isn’t a fair fight, you look beat,” He hung up his sword and looked to Dimitri. “You’re not doing my father any favors by pushing yourself like this. He’d want you to rest.”

Dimitri fell silent, with the loss of Rodrigue still fresh on his tongue. 

“You’re right,” he said quietly, discarding the lance, and walked off to his chambers. Felix’s gaze softened, not remembering the last time Dimitri conceded. 

“Father would be proud, you know. Even though I call you a boar doesn’t mean you have to live like you’re in a pigsty. You just did everyone a favor!”

Dimitri didn’t respond, but felt some heat rise to his face. Why didn’t anyone tell him to take a bath once in awhile? 

_ iv. Voices _

“You gotta buy her a rose, compliment on her clothes, say you appreciate that she’s smart~!”

A soft lilt carried from the library, and Dimitri wondered if his former classmates had just as much trouble sleeping as he did. He recognized the voice as Annette, who despite the dreary times, could often be found singing, whether she liked to admit it not. 

He cleared his throat upon entering, and Annette squeaked as she jumped. “D-Dimitri, what are you doing here?” She asked, immediately regretting her words. “Not that your presence isn’t welcome, you just startled me.”

“I had trouble sleeping, so I thought I’d grab a book,” he lied, as his headache grew stronger. 

_ Why are you wasting your time?! _

_ No, he’s being tactical, let him find a book on warfare. _

“Dimitri?” Annette asked, stepping closer out of concern. “Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

“So I’ve been told,” he muttered, and Annette pulled a book from her stack. 

“I don’t know what kind of books you’re into these days, but I love this one! It’s about a knight reclaiming his kingdom, maybe it’ll give you some inspiration!” She laughed, understanding how naive she sounded, but Dimitri plucked the book from her hands. 

“Thanks, I’ll try it.” Annette beamed at him. “Annette, could I ask you something? Why do you always sing?”

Annette blushed, knowing that everyone in the monastery knew of her cheerful tunes. “The world is such a scary place and sometimes I have trouble tuning bad thoughts out. I figured that I can’t necessarily make those bad thoughts go away, but I can definitely counteract with something of my own!” Dimitri stared blankly at her enthusiasm.

“I know it’s silly, but whatever works, right?” 

“It’s not silly,” he said quickly. “Thank you, Annette. I should be off. You get some rest, too.” He tucked the book under his cloak, and decided that he would actually go to his chambers tonight, no matter what the voices said. 

_ v. Warmth _

He forgot how far away the library was from his room, and by the time he approached the dorms, he was sweating. Since when did he sweat from such a short walk? He fumbled with his cloak, giving it a quick sniff to make sure it didn’t reek. 

“Dimitri?” His heart skipped a beat as he saw Byleth returning to her own room, candlelight in hand. He didn’t see her at dinner since she was tending to her wounds with the healers. She looked well, despite the few bandages that graced her arms. 

“Professor,” he nodded. 

“Are you okay? You look flush,” she said, bringing her hand up to his forehead. 

“Ah, no, I’m fine,” he quickly sputtered, embarrassed at the contact. Up close, he noticed she was wearing her nightgown, and he felt old feelings from his youth bubble up. He remembered the teasing he received from his classmates, mostly Sylvain, at his little crush on their professor. He managed to push it aside for propriety’s sake--it was inappropriate and there was no way she should would reciprocate. Even though he nearly confessed his feelings the night of the ball, he managed to back peddle enough that he didn’t think she took him seriously. 

He’s been nothing but terrible to her since her return, and he didn’t have it in his heart to rekindle their friendship despite his apology to her. She took his apology in grace, because of course she did, but he couldn’t live with his awful behavior. Not to her. She didn’t deserve any of hate and malice that spewed from his tongue these past few months. 

“Well I don’t blame you for being hot, you’re wearing your cloak in this weather! Do you sometimes forget you’re not in Faerghus anymore?” She joked, eyes light. He didn’t respond, and she faltered. 

“I’m sorry, that was out of line. Do whatever makes you comfortable, but make sure you take care of yourself!”

“No, you’re right,” he said for the second time that night. He unfastened his cloak and slung it over one shoulder.

“You’re not wearing gloves,” Byleth noted. He must have forgotten them after his bath. 

“They were a bit dirty after the battle,” he said, and Byleth’s gaze softened. She took his hand, and an electric pulse ran through him as he remembered the last time she touched him, when she found him at the monastery like a rabid animal. 

“I’m glad you’re safe,” she said, rubbing the top of his hand. “And that you seem like you’re back to your old self.” 

“I’m not so sure about that, the Dimitri you knew is dead,” he interjected, kicking himself at his own self-sabotage. Byleth’s eyes glowed with the candle light, and she pressed closer to him. 

“That may be so. You’ve all changed quite a bit. But at your cores, you’re still the same wonderful students I once taught. You may be weathered, but I loved all of you for your courage and kind hearts.”

Dimitri swallowed, moved by his former professor’s words. Her hand still held his. Why did he never notice how warm her hands were? They were like a warm fire, guiding him home. 

Feeling brave, he brought her hand to his lips. “Thank you, professor. It’s about time I get some rest.”

Under the candlelight, he could have sworn he saw a blush dance across Byleth’s face. “Chivalrous as always,” she whispered, drawing her hand back. “Goodnight, Dimitri. Sleep well.”

She slipped back into her room, and he headed towards his, a few doors down. He stared at his unused bed, and settled in, feeling his weight press into the cot. Closing his eyes, he imagined Byleth’s warm hands touching his own, and for now, he was at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Annette's song is from the musical Be More Chill! Kind of an Easter Egg if you know which song it's from!
> 
> I haven't written anything in ages, but this game and Dimitri absolutely punched me in the feels and demanded to be fanficed. I'm in the process of planning a soulmate AU, but wanted to do a character exploration of Dimitri before jumping in a multichapter fic since it's been so long since I've written anything. Comments and thoughts are much appreciated!


End file.
